


The Personal Assistant

by DiscoTrek



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Accent, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Christmas, F/M, Feelings, Flirting, Fluffy at times, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Intimidation, Just edited the ending, NOT student/teacher relationship, New Year's Eve, Relationship(s), Sorry it's long, whouffaldi, whouffle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-02-27 11:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2690804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiscoTrek/pseuds/DiscoTrek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Opportunity comes Clara's way and she decides to take it, not expecting how greatly it would change her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Personal Assistant

**Author's Note:**

> So I know that the professor thing has been done and overdone, but I'm hoping this is different enough that y'all won't mind. Hope you enjoy!

Clara lifted the small cup from the counter and thanked the barista that had placed it there. It was 8:00 on a Tuesday morning, and she was in no rush to be ridiculously early. Her high-heeled feet enjoyed the gentle pace that she asked of them and her eyes enjoyed taking in the bustle of the University’s campus as she walked on the soggy, recently frozen grass. As the building where she was headed came into view, her grip tightened momentarily on the coffee that she swore seemed to get smaller and smaller whenever she ordered one. A large grin forced its way onto her face as she tried to continue enjoying her stroll and pretend that she wasn’t nervous, but she really and truly was. 

Though it was a paid internship, she knew that they wouldn’t be expecting a lot from her. It was still her first experience in teaching after she had finished school, (not very prestigious school at that,) and big-name professors were not known for their patience. She imagined that the intern’s position consisted of grading papers, answering student email, and other tasks that didn’t require large amounts of responsibility. She was expecting this, and she didn’t mind it in the least. She thought about the opportunities and the doors that would be opened for her after she completed a year there. The notion of pressing forward excited her and caused her ambition to flourish. Her pace quickened as her mind jumped years ahead to her own eventual professorship. Sometimes it was hard for her to stay in the present. 

She decided that it didn’t matter that much if she was twenty minutes early. It would only make her stand out as being more determined than the others, that she assumed would be, may be ten minutes early at the most. She raced to the front of the blanched stone building’s front, passing a few students that exited with concerned looks on their faces. She ignored the warning and proceeded, wasting no time on opening the doors for others and tossing her nearly full coffee into the garbage, not wanting it to slow her down. The building was far smaller than most on campus, but it seemed it had just as many students as the other buildings had. As she entered, she took in the various hallways and options. She suddenly realized how little she knew about where to go. 

More and more students flooded in and out of the building as she stood motionless and even more nervous. “Excuse me, could you direct me to the English department?” She asked a student passerby sheepishly. They gave her a brief look of disbelief and replied, “You’re in it,” without stopping. She sighed and began to search for someone who looked like they could be faculty. Clara spotted a lanyard around someone’s neck that had information that was too small to read from where she was, but she thought she would take the chance. She snagged the person’s arm quickly before they could get away. The woman turned to Clara in outrage, showing her slightly larger than normal teeth. Her blonde hair was tied up and she wore heavy make-up around her eyes. They were quite pretty besides the look of sudden hatred in them. 

The woman jerked her arm away immediately before Clara realized she was still holding onto her. “I’m sorry,” She said, trying to shake her nerves and focus on why she had just grabbed a stranger. “I don’t know where I should be headed. I’m looking for The Eng- Where do the potential interns wait to be interviewed?” She asked, hoping she had asked the right question. The woman’s eyes rolled and she waved a finger for Clara to follow. She watched her as she cut through the crowd expertly that she wondered if they could even touch her. Her pace was quick and even, making it hard for Clara to keep up, but she followed close behind through hallway after hallway, making her feel good and lost until they reached a desk with several offices on either side.

The woman went behind the desk and pulled out a notebook with several papers attached that she flipped up and over as she scanned them. Clara stood patiently, feeling satisfied as she looked at the empty office chairs that leaned against the walls. She was the first to arrive. Her short heels clicked together quietly as she waited to hear something from the blond woman. “Yeah,” She said finally. Clara took a step forward, preparing to be seated as the first to be interviewed. “Yeah, I thought so. All professors who are part of the intern program have already been assigned to their interns. You’ll have to check back next year.” She spoke with a slight whistle in her speech. Clara assumed it was because of the teeth. “No, sorry, that can’t be right.” She replied, folding her arms so she didn’t slam them onto the desk. The woman pursed her lips and looked up at her. “Well it is right. Better luck next year.” Clara clenched her teeth at the insufferable blonde’s flippancy. 

“No, that can’t be right. My professor, Doctor Williams, recommended me here. He told me, ‘show up on the 6th of November and there will be a position waiting.’ So here I am.” She was trying not to be upset, but her volume had increased beyond her control. The Blonde’s eyebrows rose slightly in amusement and she scoffed to herself before checking her notebook again. “Well there’s your problem. Your Professor Williams got the date wrong.” Clara stiffened, unable to even blink. “Yeah, interviews were the 6th. … of October. It’s coming back to me now.” The woman said tauntingly. Clara’s shoulders collapsed slightly. She had moved everything for this. She had put off plans and didn’t look seriously at jobs elsewhere because she thought she had had this in the bag. She had even moved to an apartment closer to the campus, though her unpaid bills suggested that she had to move anyway.

“Can you check for something, anything, again, please? There could be a drop-out! There’s always someone who drops out, yeah?” Clara asked with pleading eyes. The Blonde gave her another look of amusement before bending to fish a different notebook from the desk that presumably was hers. She leafed through the pages again, shaking her head. “There may be something, but I don’t know if it’s what you’re looking for. It’s as close as you’re gonna get though.” She said, shrugging her shoulders. “If it’s close, then yes! I’ll do anything!” Clara replied urgently nodding her head. The Blonde shrugged her shoulders again and eyed the page wearily. “Alright.” She said before picking up the receiver on the desk and punching in two numbers.

It rang for only a moment before a faint voice picked up. Clara could just barely make it out. “Yes, Rose?” It said in an exasperated sort of way. The Blonde, who she now knew to be Rose, flashed her eyes at her and let something like a smile pull at the corner of her mouth. It made Clara feel uneasy. “Are you in?” She asked, unwrapping a piece of gum from her back pocket and popping it into her mouth. The voice sighed. “Wouldn’t my picking up the phone and asking ‘yes Rose’ give enough indication that I was in?” Rose frowned as she chanked on her gum dismissively. “I mean in, as in are you free to do an interview?” Clara’s hopes shot back up and her nerves returned as she mentally prepared what she was going to say. “Interview? Another one would kill me…” Clara’s face fell. “So by all means, send them in.” The voice finished before his receiver was put back on the hook. Rose’s eyes widened in annoyance and she put her receiver down as well.

“You’re all set. It’s the fifth office down.” Rose said, gesturing to the doors on the left. Clara breathed deeply and said a quick, “thanks,” to Rose before counting the doors in her head. She counted twice to make sure she didn’t walk into the wrong one. When she got to it, the plaque on the door was missing the bottom half so it read, simply, “Doctor.” She breathed again, thinking of the impatient voice on the phone, and knocked on the door loudly without pounding on it. She thought she heard papers shuffle and angry mumbling through the wall before a voice, with the same impatience she heard on the phone, called, “Come.” Her small hand wrapped around the doorknob and pushed it open to reveal a decently sized, yet high-ceilinged office with bookshelves covering the towering walls. On the far wall was a large window and centered within the view of the window was a desk where a man sat in deep concentration.  
His hair was short and sort of salt and pepper with small tufts of dark along with the grey. He was writing something quickly while he held down the paper with his other hand. She took note of his astounding posture. He was tall. She could tell just how tall even from across the room. “Are you going to come in?” He asked, not looking up from his writings. Her face reddened as she entered the office and closed the door behind her. She hadn’t realized what his accent was until she could hear it clearly instead of eavesdropping over the phone. It made her think of one of her professors who had been Scottish. She imagined the Doctor, whatever his name was, would be the same sort of die-hard nationalist.  
His hand continued like lightning, writing faster than she had ever done in her life. She stared expectantly at him until fear of him catching her shifted her gaze to his books. They were all beautiful, like archives you would find protected in a library, not sitting in an office where just anyone could touch them. She walked over to them, studying the authors and growing greener and greener with envy at how many she wished to have in her own small collection. Her hand ghosted along the spines of them, not allowing herself to quite touch them. She smiled at this and that until her attention was drawn to an incredibly aged copy of The Invisible Man. Her curiosity almost caused her hand to raise, to take it from the shelf, but she pulled it back, realizing where she was and how big of a mistake that would have been.

“It’s my favorite copy.” His voice startled from behind her. She turned around instantly, not knowing how to respond. “Oh?” Was all she could come up with in the moment as she tried to figure out how she could not notice him get up out of his chair and walk over to her. He pulled his eyes from the book to focus them on her. Now that he was closer, she could see the intimidation in his brow and in the fierce line of his mouth. His eyelids were heavy, and the wrinkle under his lower lip told her that she had already annoyed him somehow. “And why is it your favorite?” She asked, finally breaking the silence. He seemed to be studying her, but she didn’t mind. She expected as much in an interview setting, though it still heightened her nerves. 

“Does one need a reason for something to be their favorite?” He asked in deep seriousness. She looked back to it and then back to him, trying to know what he wanted her to say. This was an interview after all. “Absolutely. We’re human. We have a reason for everything.” She replied, secure in her answer. A small smile pulled at the edge of his mouth before he turned to walk back to his desk. “It’s signed by the author.” He recounted.

Her eyes widened. She could almost hear the smug smile in his voice. All she could think to say was, “You have an amazing collection here.” Her eyes wandered around until she looked back to the book, wanting even more to remove it from its shelf and somehow sneak it into her bag so that it could be hers. “Yes, it’s a rare thing to find an English professor… with a collection of books. Won’t you have a seat, miss-” He asked with sudden impatience from his seat. He seemed almost kind not a second before, though she thought his sarcasm was not surprising as she realized how idiotic she must have sounded. She practically ran over to the chair that sat across from his desk, feeling the embarrassment flush her cheeks. “Oswald, Clara Oswald.” She replied with a grin. He seemed to glower in response to it. “Very well. My name is Doctor Smith.” He said like he was waiting for recognition, though she didn’t know anything about him besides his title. 

“Good to meet you, sir.” She greeted, holding out her hand optimistically for him to shake. He scowled at the five fingers that pointed in his direction before taking them firmly and giving them a brief shake. “Do not call me sir. It’s far too military for me.” He stated, without an ounce of amusement. “Doctor Smith, or simply The Doctor, would suit.” He finished. She noticed the familiar teaching tone in his voice when he spoke. He took great care with each of his words; emphasizing and taking pauses to add drama to them. It aggravated her. It was a perfect contrast to her quick, nervous speech.

“Good to meet you then, Doctor.” She reintroduced with a still-confident smile. He returned a forced smile that disappeared as hastily as it had appeared. “Now that that’s settled, have you had any experience in assisting jobs before, and do you have any references with you?” Her confident smile withered and pulled down the hopes that she still had. “Assisting jobs? This is an assisting position?” She asked, feeling endless disappointment in just one morning. That Rose girl had to have made a mistake, she thought. A laugh from the man sitting in front of her broke her reflections. “Oh good! You don’t even know what job you’re interviewing for. I was wondering how quickly this interview would go south.” He said harshly, “Congratulations, you’ve just beat the record.” 

“No, sorry I got the impression from that receptionist of yours that this was something similar to an internship. She didn’t say what the job was exactly!” She said somewhat desperately, trying to backtrack and regain some competency. He rolled his eyes, feeding her nerves. “Internship? I’m not one of those buddy-professors that cottles the young ones. Also you’re a bit late for those.” He condescended. The hairs on the back of her neck spiked at how much credit she was losing every time he opened his mouth. “Well there was a problem with the dates- I only came because I was told I would have a job waiting for me and-” He laughed sharply, again interrupting her shaky speech. She flushed, realizing how pompous she must have sounded just then.

“Oh, a job waiting for you! If only we all had employment handed to us so freely. Why even come in for an interview, the job’s already yours!” He stood from his chair and looked down at her. She looked so small under his shrinking stare. “Now, if you’d be so kind, I have to get back to the job that I actually worked for. Perhaps you can try for the job when you’re actually prepared.” He gestured to the door with fury in his brow. He was angry, but at the same time, he was laughing at her. That was all she could stand.  
Clara stood with his fury twice over. She wasn’t about to be trampled on after everything. She growled with frustration. “I didn’t come here to be a bloody PA, I came here to be an Intern! All I wanted to do was learn from a professor, and it would have been all perfectly fine if Professor Williams hadn’t gotten the date wrong, so I’m sorry for wasting your time! See you next year!” She could see the impact of her shouting on his face. It would have tickled her had she not been so infuriated. She stormed to the door and swung it open roughly though her hands trembled ferociously from standing up to him like that.

She was about to stomp through the door when she heard behind her, “Come back Monday.” Her brows pulled together tightly. “Sorry?” She steamed, feeling sure she hadn’t heard him right. He was unsmiling still, but his anger seemed to have washed away. “You’re obviously far too flustered to begin work today. You’ll have to come back Monday. Did Doctor Williams give you a recommendation?” He asked, sifting through a few papers on his desk. She relaxed her hand from the tight grip she had on the doorknob as total confusion consumed her. “Yes, but I don’t want to be a PA.” She said, wondering why he needed a reminder for something that she had just said. “You will have to fill out a few forms with Rose, of course. We’ll work out the specifics of your employment later.” He said, purposefully dismissing her words.

“I just said I’m not gonna be a PA!” She argued, still fueled from when she had yelled at him before. He sighed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and meeting her eyes. “You think that an intern, who sits in a classroom some days and grades papers others, is going to learn more than someone who’s actually shadowing a professor? Those professors follow procedures and they water down the hard stuff, but with me, you’d be getting it straight from the bottle. I think you’ll find that this is exactly what you came here for, Miss Oswald.” His eyes went back to the papers on his desk. Clara opened her mouth to speak, but found nothing to say. She thought silently about it, but still found herself feeling that there had to be another choice. “But-”

“See you on Monday, Miss Oswald.” He interrupted. His tone suggested that he was not about to be pressed on the matter. She turned from him and resumed storming from the room, closing the door firmly behind her. She stomped down the hall to get back to Rose’s desk, feeling just as much anger towards her as she felt for her sudden employer. A receiver rested in the crook of her neck when Clara stopped and folded her arms impatiently in front of her. Rose glanced up at her and slapped a pile of three papers onto the part of the desk nearest to her and then placed a pen on top of them. Clara rolled her eyes, staring at the papers, detecting her own immaturity at not wanting to fill them out. It was true that she had had some clerical experience, but she thought she had exceeded that. She thought that this was her shot to get to the next step.

She looked at Rose, who paid no attention to her indecision, and then grabbed the papers. All it is, she thought, is just one more step. It wasn’t the same, but perhaps he was right. There was no denying that she would be getting inside the mind of a professor, which is what she wanted all along. She filled out the forms, giving them all her employment information and then slid them closer to Rose who instinctively grabbed them and filed them like she was being timed. Clara relaxed for a moment, realizing that at least she had a job, though she didn’t know what the pay was or what the hours were like. 

She leaned over Rose’s desk and whispered, “Any chance you could direct me on how to get out of here?” She asked. Rose nodded once and without speaking, gestured one way then another way then the same way twice and then the other way, expecting Clara to understand the squiggle she had just drawn in the air. Clara gave one nod and headed into the hallway where she had entered from. After that, she was at a loss. “It’s not that big of a building,” she whispered to herself, taking turns that looked vaguely familiar to her and then looking back, regretting her decision.

She stumbled a bit in the middle of the straight hall. She felt grateful that no one seemed to have seen her, not just when she tripped, but in the office as well. She had had a job as a desk clerk for a time and she checked people in and out that went for interviews. Some would stay, but many wouldn't, and everyone, including her, noticed the ones that wouldn't. Even though her situation was obviously different, she still wore the look of someone who didn't quite meet the mark. She still wasn’t going to be an intern.  
"Wretched man," She whispered to herself, knowing that if someone had overheard her, they would have understood. They all had to work with him all day. Her scrunched eyebrows relaxed slightly with concern. “That’s not fair,” she whispered again, thinking of how kind it was for him to give her the job. He was right. She was unprepared. That wasn’t his fault. She tried to examine where she should turn next but the thought was stopped short. The terrible pain of running into something solid whacked the worry from her brain and sent her quickly to the floor. The shock of it blackened her vision and she lied there for she didn't know how long. 

"Oh dear, so sorry!" A voice shouted. In an instant after the shout, one of her hands was peeled from the floor and was used to pull her painfully from the ground, forcing her to be on her feet far sooner than she was able to. Suddenly two hands covered her cheeks and a pair of complex eyes stared into her. "Are you alright? Can you hear me?" He seemed to be shouting still, and for some reason, she expected a Scottish accent. She couldn't quite recall when she had opened her eyes or if she had even closed them. She tried to shake her head, forgetting that he was holding it still. 

"I'm a bit confused" She attempted to say, though the thickness of her mumble made her wonder if he could even hear. His face was so close to her that she could only guess that he was smiling by the wrinkling around his eyes. "Oh, about these things? Someone's having a birthday in the next office, Marge or Mary, something or other. I'm to bring the party supplies... As you can see." He stopped his nervous ramble when he realized she was still wearing an expression of bewilderment as she stared at him. She hadn't noticed the party hats and streamers that were strewn all over the ground until he had mentioned it. She could only partially see them out of the corner of her eye. 

"Oh I see, you meant about hitting your head. Right, sorry about that. Double sorry. Would you like to be taken to the hospital?" Her confusion was slowly melting away. She hadn't gotten all of what he said, but the word 'hospital' seemed to sober her right up. He released his hands from her face and placing them on her upper arms, making her wobble a bit until she found her balance. "No, no hospital. I'm fine." She answered, blinking away the last bit of blurriness from her eyes, allowing her to truly see the man that stood before her at arm’s length.

‘Surprising’ was the best word to describe him. His face was the only indication she had of his age. He was handsome enough, she thought, but his features were beyond unique to the point where she wasn’t sure what to think. Judging by his clothing choice, he could have been in his mid-eighties. His tweed jacket looked worn, as if it had belonged to a grandfather, but his bowtie looked pristine, like he had just purchased it. “Are you sure you’re fine? You don’t look fine. I mean, you look lovely, but rather like you’re about to be ill-” He replied clumsily, studying her face as if he was sure he had missed something. 

Clara gave a little laugh of disbelief as she rubbed her forehead. It seemed to startle him. “Is that how you get all your girls? Whack em in the face and then tell them they look lovely?” She asked, testing him. She never felt that she was very good at flirting, but she could always get people to admit their motives, at least in their reactions to her prodding questions. He squirmed at her words. His mouth opened and he scoffed, aghast at her accusation. She grinned as she watched his eyes shift, trying to think of something self-preserving to say.

“Hey, only joking. You’re safe. For now.” She teased, glad to see someone as nervous as she is. He laughed, clapping his hands together once before the memory of the scattered party supplies jolted in his memory. He fell to his knees and began to gather them in his thin arms, placing one of the hats on his head in the process. She kneeled down to help and helped gather the variously colored streamers. “Sorry again for the door… in the face.” He said, miming the action with his hand to his forehead. She laughed, handing what was in her arms to him as they both stood. “I’ve survived worse.” She replied genuinely. His face was so bright to her, almost like a child, but with more experience written in every curve and line of his features. She couldn’t imagine suddenly, why she had been undecided about him a moment before. He was undeniably handsome to her.

“Haven’t we all?” He grinned and then turned away down the hall. Her heart sank seeing his back turned to her. “Wait!” She called, running a few steps to catch up with him. He turned back with the same grin as if it hadn’t left his face the whole time. “Can anyone come to this party?” She asked, feeling bold. He thought for a moment, referring to some mental rule book within his mind. “It was just meant for staff, but I’m sure Molly wouldn’t mind. Mildred. Martha! Oh yes…” He mused, nodding his head satisfactorily. She beamed, contemplating for a moment what happened before she ran into this strange man. “Well, as of today, I am staff. I’m sure taking me to a party would make up for any damage that door might have done.” She stated hurriedly, like she was worried the party would be over by the time she was done convincing him, though no convincing was needed.

“Well then,” He leaned over and placed a party hat on her soft, brown hair and bit his lower lip giddily, “Welcome aboard.” She smirked at the uplifting turn the morning had taken and tilted the hat so it was slightly askew like his was. He nodded contently and gestured for her to follow him. She hooked her hand around the crook in his arm, being careful to not make him drop the party supplies again. “My name’s Matt, by the way.” He began, “I’m an Assistant Professor of Poetry here.” He said with a glint of boastfulness behind his eyes. Her curiosity spiked at his title. Though he didn’t look like an intern, he didn’t quite look like someone on the track to full professorship either. “I’m Clara,” She replied with her chin up, “I’m The Doctor’s personal assistant.”


	2. The Friend

She strode into the building, swerving around students that looked at their phone screens instead of their paths and made it through to the hallway. Her short, thick heels clomped on the thin carpet as she turned left and right and left, then took two rights until the desk was in view. Rose was sitting motionless, holding tufts of her hair as she searched for split ends. “Morning,” Clara greeted her with a forced smile. Rose nodded in response and blew a large bubble with her blue gum. Clara turned to walk down the hall and could hear the bubble pop with a loud snap. Her heels ceased clomping once she got to the fifth office down the hall. “Come in,” She heard faintly before her fist had even risen to knock. She turned the knob and entered to find The Doctor standing, leaning against his desk with an open file in his hands.  
She found that he always stood when he had more work to do than usual. She guessed that it helped him think better somehow. She shut the door behind her and sat at the small desk she had set up for herself in his office. It was equivalent to a TV dinner stand, but with a small laptop and a few legal pads, accompanied by numerous pens that she kept losing. “You should change those ridiculous shoes. I could hear you as soon as you came in the building.” He grumbled, not bothering to look up from his work. She rolled her eyes at him, knowing he couldn’t see.  
“I’m fine thanks. And how’s the morning been?” She asked spritely. He kept his scowl and shrugged so he wouldn’t have to open his mouth to give his usual answer of, “Slow.” Her eyes lingered on him for a moment. She didn’t like these mornings before they actually went out and did things. They were far too quiet. It was when they went to lectures and had meetings with students that she found joy in. The Doctor had been right on that first day. She was learning far more than she thought she would.  
“It’s good anyway, the sound of my heels. You have a warning before I get here, so you can write your weekly report to the board really quickly and pretend like you’ve had it done all morning.” She said in her sharp way. His heavy eyes rose to glower at her. “Of course I’ve had it done all morning. I’m busy enough. I wouldn’t halt my work just for a report that always gives the same information.” He replied incredulously. She loved to tease everyone, including him, but he never teased back. She knew he never would, even though she had only known him for about four weeks. She had been so afraid of him when she started, but fear became curiosity fairly quickly. She almost thought of him as a project; something she needed to stretch and draw reactions from to learn more about it.  
“Oh, well I’ll just eat my words then. I didn’t realize you had it done.” She stood from her desk and walked over, slowly approaching him like a lioness stalking a zebra. “Can I see it?” She asked, unable to stifle her smirk. His eyes lifted panickedly from his papers again. “What?” He asked, trying to buy himself some time. She leaned on his desk and folded her arms over the pattern on her sweater. She knew she had him. “Your finished report; Can I see it, since you’ve finished it… right on time?” She taunted with a whisper.  
He looked to the papers on his desk and fumbled with them. “Well It’s… It’s a little rough, it’s not fully…” He trailed off, leafing through the pages, hoping that an agenda would magically appear. Clara basked in her control for a moment, but soon gave in. “Well, it’s alright if you can’t find yours. I’ve composed one myself. I hope you don’t mind me taking a peek at your schedule.” She said, testing a boundary she hadn’t crossed yet. She handed him the sheet of paper with unwavering confidence.  
He took it lightly in his hand and stared down at her blankly, looking like he was carefully considering which part of what she did he should scold her for. “No. Fine.” He replied staggeringly. “Yours seems to be more completed. We’ll just use yours this week.” He answered, keeping the pretense, though she could see in his eyes that she was pulling strings. He hadn’t even looked at it. She wondered if he was actually going to send it in, or if he would type up his own later.  
Sometimes he was so easy for her to read, but other attempts were tragic failures. Every personal question was avoided and every friendly conversation was skirted and disintegrated as soon as they began to leave her lips. Some days she felt like she couldn’t find a drop of humanity in him. His stony face tormented his students and baffled Clara to the point where she wanted to pinch him, just to see what he’d do about it. “Could you ask Rose to come in a moment?” He asked, confused at her lingering stare. She wasn’t thinking about how long she was studying him. A small wave of embarrassment passed through her before she cleared her throat with a nod and left the office.  
A charmed grin suddenly burst through her cloud of frustration as she saw that a pleasant surprise waited beside Rose’s desk for her. Her heels clomped more quickly until she was just a couple of feet away. “Aren’t you supposed to be giving an Emerson lecture?” Matt turned to her with a wide grin, like he couldn’t believe it was really her. She was positive her face filled with the same amount of joy.  
“I was, yes, but how boring would that have been? You wouldn’t have even been there!” He declared. She came back with a causal, “fair enough,” but she agreed with him, so giddily within herself. All she wanted to do was be near him. He was kind, funny and so passionate in everything he did. Ever since Martha’s party nearly a month ago, they had both known what the other wanted, and had become closer and closer. Some days she couldn’t wait through the whole day and would sneak into his office or pull him into the janitor’s cupboard for a speedy rendezvous. She didn’t know what to call their relationship yet, but it was the fastest she had ever experienced, and far more unexpectedly, the most fulfilling.  
“You never answered my question, Matt.” Rose’s voice cut through the unimportant space that surrounded them and Clara realized she must have interrupted their conversation when she came from the office. It was a known fact that Rose didn’t like anyone, but it was also a known fact that she did like Matt. Clara wasn’t sure if she loved him necessarily, but her attentions were obvious to her, and they aggravated her more than she could admit. “The Doctor just asked for you. He wants you in his office” Clara issued firmly. She realized it was a little harsh to have cut her off like that, but Rose’s hateful glance put her guilt to rest. She stood abruptly and made her way to the correct office down the hall.  
Clara turned back to Matt who, thankfully, seemed to not notice the exchange. He wasn’t smiling, which was more than unusual. She silently hoped to herself that she wouldn’t have to apologize to Rose. “Clara, may I ask you something?” He said in alarming seriousness. She had never really heard him be serious before, besides when he had caught his finger in a window. Her heart rate increased at his severity and she feared that he was either telling her he had cancer, or he was going to propose; both of which she was unprepared for. “Okay,” She responded, looking at the floor momentarily before looking back to him.  
His usual grin appeared, putting her slightly at ease, like asking if he was able to ask was the hard part for him. “Okay, now you told me that Christmas is not exactly pleasant in your family,” He paused, waiting for her to verify if that was true or not. She gave a slight nod before he proceeded. “And I was wondering, if, perhaps if you wanted, you would maybe come to my Dad’s home in Northamptonshire, with me, um, for Christmas? We’d be back way before the New Year’s parties and all that. It’s just a small Christmas… thing…” Matt’s voiced faded at Clara’s somewhat worried expression. “Sorry,” He said nervously, scratching his right cheek with his left hand.  
“Why are you sorry?” She asked, just as nervously.  
“Don’t know. Felt like something I should’ve said.” He replied.  
“Don’t be sorry.” She said, not knowing what else to say.  
“Okay. Right. Sorry.” He replied. His eyes shifted to the side bewilderedly. Clara’s mind raced. Christmases with her father and step-mother were uncomfortable and judgmental, but she had never spent a Christmas away from him. Christmastime had been so important to her mother. When she died, Clara was the one who actually cared about maintaining the traditions that the three of them had made as a family. It exhausted her, but the alternative would kill her.  
“Can I think about it?” She asked suddenly, startling Matt. Her eyes were large with false enthusiasm, but it seemed to give him hope. “Yes! Do! Please think all you’d like!” A small fraction of her muscles relaxed and her contrived smile became genuine. He didn’t seem to be able to tell the difference.  
“Clara!” The Doctor called, making her wonder if Rose had told on her about chatting in the hall. He shouted for her so often that she was starting to dread the sound of her own name. “Duty calls.” She sighed in some slight relief, giving Matt’s cheek a quick peck before turning on her heel and marching back to her office within an office. He didn’t say anything behind her, and she didn’t look back for a reassuring smile. When she reentered the room, Rose was standing haughtily beside The Doctor’s desk while he finished lecturing her on something concerning the filing of grades. She only caught the tail-end and couldn’t pick anything up for later gossip, not that she was in the mood for it.  
“Oh good, you’re back from wandering around uselessly.” He grunted to Clara before waving his hand at Rose to leave. Clara watched her as she glanced back at her and supposed she didn’t tattle after all. “Now you’ve gone to standing around uselessly.” He bemoaned, lifting from his seat. She focused on the closed door a moment longer and then turned back to the doctor. “A bit of a handful, that Rose, isn’t she?” She stated, wondering why he even kept her on. He always seemed so aggravated by her, and she by him. His eyes met hers only for a moment before going back to the sheet of paper in his hands. His puckered lips relaxed to release an inaudible deep breath.  
“Rose has been unhappy since the moment I met her. I don’t know exactly what she lost before she came here, but it must have been very dear to her.” He said mutedly. His surprisingly empathetic response stunned Clara, and she suddenly felt repulsively shallow and hard-hearted. A painful abeyance took over the office, leaving her to punish herself until she finally broke the silence. “So then, what’s next for us, Doctor?” She asked, instead of checking the schedule or checking the time so she could know for herself. She knew that he liked to tell her what happened next, like a storyteller would. A smile pulled his mouth to the side at her question and it made Clara want to feel enthusiastic about the day again. “Grab your notepad and pen, Miss Oswald. It’s time for class.” He stated, marching toward the door right on schedule.  
When they entered one of the lecture halls, Clara’s enthusiasm was, indeed, restored. This was her favorite part, she thought. It was what she was there for. The hall was filled with students already with their textbooks and laptops out. They all gave up their neighborly conversation and sat in dead silence when he entered. She loved how he could do that. She wanted that for herself; that same sort of power over the lot of them.  
His long black jacket, the one he always wore on lecture days, was unbuttoned and revealed a portion of the red lining that seemed to clash with his somewhat somber personality. Clara figured it had been a present, but then questioned who would give him a present. To be fair, he was married once, she thought. Matt had told her that when she asked if he really knew anything about him. He had said it casually like it was common knowledge, but The Doctor never talked about it. He never talked about anything, really, besides his work.  
The Doctor set down his bag heavily on the desk that sat at the front of the coliseum-like seats that encircled the ground-level stage. He turned to his audience with a grim expression, but Clara swore she could see a smile in it, like it was difficult for him to stay in character. She always watched in that moment. He changed from an angry old man to an inspirer and a wizard of words. Brilliance and endless knowledge of heroes and villains in ancient prose poured from his accented lips. She watched in awe every time he lectured and wondered if she would ever deliver as well as he could. He seemed to not even be aware of the beauty of it when he did it. For him, it was as effortless as walking.  
After the lecture, several students came to the front to request meetings with him to discuss grades or to make up quizzes they had missed. Every one, he shooed them away like vermin and directed them all toward Clara. She hastily jotted down their names and planted them into the Doctor’s schedule. She directed and dealt with them efficiently; not wanting a repeat of the time the doctor had left her behind and had gone on to an appointment without her. She finished and ran to catch up with his fast stride. They headed back to his office for grading and lunch, going through the long courtyard in between the buildings.  
His pace was so quick, but she managed to stride right alongside him, glancing up at his stoic profile. “What?” He asked, noticing that she had been glancing too often. She kept her stare on him, taking the opportunity to maybe have him actually respond to what she was going to say. “How do you do it? How do you command them like that? How do you remember what to say and not forget the points you’re making every time they look down at you?” She stressed ardently. Her questioning stare was still with expectation. He glanced down at her. Usually he responded without wasting time to make eye-contact, but he seemed to be showing intrigue in her curiosity.  
“Students are hungry. They are always looking for someone to feed off, and it turns out that today they are feeding off of me. It’s quite easy to command a dog when you’re holding a bone. Secondly,” He paused, looking forward again with a hint of a sigh that she saw lingering in the cold, outside air. “Secondly, there were about fifty points that I didn’t hit in that lecture. It helps to know a thing well enough that you’ll have multiple things you can grab from memory. And thirdly, never look an audience in its eyes. If you turn them into a background that you’re just saying things at, there’s nothing scary about it.” He said, shuddering slightly in the winter air. Clara rubbed her hands together and breathed on her fingers. They were chilled so quickly, though they hadn’t been in the cold very long.  
“So, it was… scary, for you, at some point then?” She asked, prying without hesitance. They were having an actual conversation and he was actually participating. It was Christmas miracle of sorts. His lips pursed together as he looked ahead toward the building they approached. Clara waited patiently for any sign of a response. “I think it’s fair to say that I’ve lived a somewhat fearful life. That doesn’t mean I don’t do the things I fear.” He breathed, almost mournfully. He didn’t look down at Clara again until he was opening the door for her to enter the English department building. Both of them were silent, buried deep within their own thoughts.  
When they got back to his office, they sat, working diligently, and very silently. Clara didn’t even attempt to make conversation as she usually did, though she hated to be alone with her thoughts. Her brain began to focus more and more on Matt’s proposal from that morning. It burned in her skull, begging to be scratched like a fresh rash. It was the first time she was truly thinking about it, like she said she would. She weighed the options again and again, allowing her mother to come to mind on multiple occasions. Indecision tugged at her nerves and was causing her to fidget. How would she ever be able to leave for Christmas? How does one simply stop living how they’ve always lived their entire life?  
She glanced at the Doctor as he sat pensively. His index finger traced over his barely parted lips. She just watched him for a moment, though he didn’t notice at all. His last words suddenly came to her mind; the words that she tucked away into her mind and knew that she was going to refer back to, though they were simple words. “That doesn’t mean I don’t do the things I fear.” A feeling of assurance of what she had to do burst from her and she stood feverishly from her desk, startling The Doctor.  
“I’m gonna pop out for some coffee. Want anythin?” She said in a rush, holding her mobile in her hand. He gave her a quizzical look and simply shook his head. “Back in a mo!” Her nervous feet raced faster than her words and propelled her though the door and through the halls to get to the outside of the building. The courtyard was fairly empty and quiet. It felt too still, like somehow it would make it easier if it were loud. She wouldn’t have to feel so alone in it. She scoffed at herself. “Uh, you’re an idiot.” She whispered, pushing the buttons on her phone angrily and then pressing it to her ear.  
Every ring made her more and more anxious until a familiar voice rang in forced sweetness, “Hello, darling.” She held back a frown, though she didn’t know why since there was no one around to see it. “Hi dad.” She replied with the same insincerity that he had given her, “And how are you?” She cooed. Her father coughed lightly like he was trying to buy himself time before answering. “I’m just fine. How are you, Love?” He asked with uncomfortable stiffness in his voice. She continued the conversation, asking him to catch her up, wanting him to talk so she wouldn’t have to, though her father never changed, so there was nothing to report really. Nothing important.  
Long pauses began to take over the conversation until she decided to just say what she meant to. “I’ve gotten a job at a university, dad.” She stated eagerly. He made a small noise of approval. “My goodness, what’s the job? Or is it that internship you were goin on about?” He asked, finally sounding pleased with her. She cringed and regretted bringing it up suddenly. “It’s not the internship. They were all booked up, so I’m on as a personal assistant to one pf the professors.” She said with audible nervousness that made her even more nervous. She could hear her father sigh on the other end of the line. “Well that’s not far from what you were doin before, Clara.” He whined, judgment seeping through the speaker of the phone.  
She straightened and forced herself to be courageous in voice. “That’s what I thought at the beginning of it all, but this is different. It’s just better, I promise you, this is far better than bein a clerk.” She replied plainly, trying not to sound desperate for acceptance. He sighed deeply again, feeding the quiet that surrounded her. “I thought you wanted to be a professor, Clara.” He whined again.  
She was so tired of that naggish squeal he seemed to do whenever he was less than impressed with something. “I do! This is how I’m gonna get there. You’ll see that…” She trailed off, feeling her confidence wither. “Clara, maybe you should just come back to Blackpool and temp for a while until you’ve got things figured out.” He said with a disgusting amount of condescension. Her mouth fell open and her grip tightened on her phone. “No, dad-”  
“There are a lot of openings over here. You’re just not seeing the big picture. With experience here, you could make an excellent children’s schoolteacher, but professorship takes more; just far more than you’ve been giving, sweetheart.” He finished, speaking to her like she was her teenage self again. Her chest felt narrow from the cold and from the blow to her heart. She had worked so hard, and he had never really cared what she did, but to say that she couldn’t do it caused more sorrow than she could have ever expected.  
“I’m seeing this through, dad. Even if I’m not giving enough, I’m giving my all in this job, and that’s final.” She said with shaky rage in her throat. Her eyes flooded and the cold sting on her face made her shiver. “Alright then.” He stepped down. She felt even less respect for him when he did this. Her step mother always took advantage of his ability to be hushed. She breathed deeply and wiped her eyes, trying to move on and get it all over with.  
“Look, I may not come for Christmas this year." She stated, almost hoping that her nonchalant statement would hurt him a fraction of the amount that he had just hurt her. "Oh well that's alright I suppose. Your mother and I were thinking of doing one of those cruises this year. Gran would love it as well, so you should go have fun with your friends." He said, truly carelessly. Clara was frozen, unable to cope with what he had just said. Careless was the only way to describe him. Why had she always tried so hard? Why had she given so much of herself to this stupid, horrible holiday?  
"She's not my mother." She breathed, hardly able to say anything. “You know what I meant. Your step mother.” Clara sniffed and wiped her face again, feeling the cold bite at the surface of her soft skin. “Right,” She said, “I have to go.” She pulled the phone away from her ear and heard a faint “Clara?” from the speaker, but ended the call as soon as her thumb reached the button. Her shoulders shook in emotion, so she took a few moments to get herself sorted before entering the building again. She tried to take every step back to the office as a method of calming and did her best to wear a smile the entire time.  
When she reentered the office, The Doctor looked up with the same quizzical expression he had worn before she left. He was standing beside his desk with a book in his hand. Of all the time they had spent in that office full of books, she had never actually seen him read any of them. That was something she could never understand about him. She gave him a little nod and walked back to her desk. She watched him stride over to her slowly from her peripheral vision and cursed her inability to act normal when she was upset. “What’s going on here?” He asked untactfully. She shook her head and made a confused frown. “Nothing. Why?” She asked, refusing to look up at him.  
“Where’s your coffee?” He asked, folding his arms. She rolled her eyes at herself outside of his vision. “I decided against it. Drink too much of it anyway.” She replied without effort. The Doctor turned away from her, giving her relief, but then came back sliding a chair beside her own. His front faced her side as he sat, leaning forward with an expression that was not quite concern and was not quite anger.  
"What's happened?" He asked, furrowing his whole face, puzzling her with his, what she could only describe as, interest. "Nothin'! Things are fine. Super, even." She returned, wide eyed with a lot of nodding. His next expression demanded the truth from her and pried her open, making her feel like she had to tell him every dark secret that she had ever kept. He had true power in those expressions of his. "It was just a conversation with my dad..." She sighed and her eyes fell to the carpet. “Do you ever think that if you take over where someone else.. left off, it keeps them alive just a bit longer?” She asked, not knowing why she was asking her employer such a question, though he did ask. The Doctor leaned forward, examining her words as if they hung in the air above them needed to be thought through individually. His eyes creased and a new light entered them, catching her absolute attention.  
“When you lose someone, it’s easy to take on responsibilities that aren’t your own, though I think it’s a mistake to. You’re only getting ready to blame yourself when things go wrong.” His gray-blue eyes became wide with a small wave of pain. Clara felt a panic at the foreign emotion she saw in him. “My late wife saw more in me than anyone else did. She worked so hard to convince the world that I was good enough to do the things I wanted that they actually believed her. She was an archeologist, working to uncover a series of tombs in Africa, and she still had time to help me on my way.” He let out a breathy laugh at a memory that seemed to float over his head, but his smile grew cold and another wave of pain hit him.  
“When she passed, there was no one to finish the work she had started. I knew that would’ve killed her, so I began to finish it myself. For three years I worked in Africa with a tribe there, dusting and labeling artifacts that I knew would have thrilled her, but after a while, the connections that she had helped me build for myself were fading. She had fought for me because she wished me to be happy, and I was throwing it all away. So I left. The dig went on without me, the artifacts were preserved, and I got to do what I always wanted to do: teach others how to make those connections.” He concluded.  
Clara looked deep within him and felt as if he was an old friend of hers. She felt inclined to wrap her arms around him, though the consequences for such an action didn’t seem to register quickly enough. Suddenly she was squeezing his midsection tightly and they both sat. Her cheek was pressed to the upper left of his chest and her thigh rested parallel against his. She found him surprisingly warm. An unexplainable feeling caused her to squeeze him more tightly and hold him for as long as she could. He smelled so sweet, like a peppermint candy. His muscles were tightened and he was unmoving, but he allowed her to remain until she was able to release him. “I’m sorry about your wife.” She whispered. He responded with a sharp breath. She pulled away and looked into his face that was frozen in stupefaction. She was just pleased he didn’t seem to be angry or offended by her contact.  
“Why do I feel like you’ve given me more wisdom in one day than anyone has given me my entire life?” She asked, excluding her mother in her head. She was still the wisest person Clara had ever known. He scoffed in amusement, looking toward the ceiling uncomfortably and batting with his heavy lids. “Because you probably don’t get out much. So, are we fine now?” He asked, intertwining his hands ever so properly in his lap. She grinned. “We are, yes.” She replied, feeling earnestly better, though she still wasn’t positive about spending Christmas with Matt, though he didn’t exactly need to know about that part.  
“Good,” He stated, becoming more businesslike as he stood from his seat and pulled the chair back to its rightful place, “because I need you to be sharp. You do excellent work, but not like this. You have to have your usual gumption. Be feisty!” He encouraged, gesturing to her and directing her like one would direct a symphony heavy in brass. “Down, boy!” She laughed, astonished at this side of himself he was revealing. “That’s the ticket.” He replied, turning back to his desk. He suddenly looked different to her. He wasn’t old like she thought he was. His eyes looked even younger than hers.  
“Doctor,” she asked, brushing a bit of hair from her face. He turned back, placing his hand on his desk like he needed it for balance. “Did someone give you that coat.. as a gift or somethin?” She smiled a little at the change in expression from somewhat joyful to disbelief. “This?” He asked, unbuttoning one button and flicking it open to reveal the lining and placing his hands in his trouser pockets. Her smile increased at his dramatic motion. “Not at all. Bought it myself years back. Why?” He returned gravelly, like she had just insulted one of his family members. “No reason,” She lied, “It’s just, I didn’t realize how much it suited you until now.” He gave her a side-smile and returned to his desk. 

*******************************************************************

The next week was full of surprise. Each day was as the past month had been, but at the end, when they returned to the office, they would sit and they would talk. They chatted about books and television and their families. Though he was still his angry, stern self, he had moments, however brief, of being agreeable and shy and terribly funny. She found herself looking forward to every day simply to get to the end of it. It made the days feel shorter and the week feel shorter as well.  
Because of it, Friday rolled around much more quickly. Every Friday the Doctor had a conference with the university’s board. She sighed as she realized that meant that they wouldn’t have their evening chat that night, but at least it was a Friday. That meant she had plans with Matt. Actual plans outside of a broom cupboard. The Doctor had asked her to finish a lesson plan for Monday’s lecture and some other work for the weekend while he was in the meeting. She sat, trying to finish it as quickly as possible, thinking of finally spending time with him. Matt’s voice in her head began to slowly switch over to a Scottish accent.  
She began to say her name in her head like the Doctor did. She liked the roll of the “r” in her name when it trotted from his tongue. The urgent announcement of, "Cladda!" was suddenly an uplifting one, though she still couldn't quite figure why. She thought, perhaps, she could be a friend to him. “And vice versa.” She whispered, thinking about how few friends she really had.  
Matt suddenly kneeling beside her small desk startled her and caused her to make extra markings on a write-up of a lesson plan. “You talk to yourself so often. I’m not sure why you need the rest of us.” Clara grunted in farce frustration and smacked his shoulder. “One: Never scare me again. Two: You can’t just barge into his office! If he sees you in here, he’s going to think I invited you!” She laughed , glancing at the door, hoping Rose hadn’t seen him come in. “Oh I’m practically invisible! Anyway, important question, what are you doing after work, my small, wide-eyed friend?” He asked through closed teeth and a flirtatious thin brow. She was never one for an easy laugh, but he always seemed to make it easy. She pretended to contemplate the question and continued her work as she kept him lingering with endless “hmmm”s.  
He rested his head on her desk and made exaggerated breathing sounds of sleeping. She tittered quietly and tapped his head with her pen, which ‘woke’ him. “The longer you bug me, the longer it’s going to take to finish my work, and to answer your question, my lanky, suspendered friend: a poetry professor.” Matt gave a victorious laugh “Oh, we’ve got a feisty one!” He bellowed. Clara shushed him and smacked his arm, again looking to the door. A fear she couldn’t explain spread from the warmth in her face to her shoulders and chest as she thought about the door opening. “You should go so I can work, Matt.” Her voice halted its playful song. He ignored her caution and walked on his knees to the side of her chair. He leaned in close to her ear. She instinctively leaned her shoulder against his as he got close enough to whisper, “Anyone I know?”  
She smirked, forgetting her fear for a moment, and turned his head with her finger tips so she could whisper in return, “Afraid not.” He snickered and then scooted to behind her chair so his chest was to the back of it. He rested his pointed chin on her shoulder, perching like a bird. “Careful, that thing’s sharp.” She whispered, nudging his chin with her shoulder. “You have no idea.” He chirped, tickling her neck with it. She laughed.  
“You’re a rubbish flirt.” She lied, still speaking in a whisper, though Matt didn’t. “Am I?” He asked as he pressed his lips right under her ear and brought his hands up to curl around her forearms. She squirmed a little, trying still to focus on what she was doing. “Matt, honestly, I’ve got to finish!” She said more loudly, trying to tell him how serious she was. He ignored her again and pressed his tongue to her skin, flushing it and making it feel like it was boiling. His grip on her arms tightened and her head leaned to the side, giving him more room to distract her. “Matt,” She said again, though not nearly as sternly. It was so hard to be stern when he was being so delicate.  
“Oh, sod it.” She said, pulling her neck away so she could meet his lips with her own. He laughed into her mouth satisfactorily and leaned into her, taking the higher ground. She soon pushed him back and regained control. She liked that he let her do that. Her hands combed through his soft, brown hair as if it were liquid. She could never figure out how men could always have such soft hair.  
“I suppose you haven’t had the time to finish the lesson plan for tomorrow, then.” Clara’s eyes shot open and she stood so swiftly that she nearly knocked Matt to the floor. The fear that she had imagined hit her with an unbearable force as she looked into the fiery eyes of her employer. His anger was blatant, though his voice was no more gruff than usual. For a moment, she forgot that Matt was even there, and she felt like a child that had done something hurtful because they didn’t understand how other people’s feelings worked yet. “Doctor, I, we were-”  
“Matthew, it’s strange to see you roaming this far from the Poetry Department. We never see much of your kind here.” The Doctor interrupted, keeping his eyes on Clara as he spoke and then slowly transitioning them to Matt. He laughed and stood up from his knees. “Well, I have some newfound interests here.” He stated, giving Clara a wink. She wasn’t even able to fake a smile. Her face felt heavy and like it sagged nearly to the floor. The Doctor’s burning eyes began to wear on him as well, giving him his cue to leave. “However, I should be off, now.” He said, taking the hint.  
“Doctor,” He bowed his head respectfully at him and then turned to Clara. “Clara,” He bowed again, offering a cunning smile, like he had just enjoyed getting caught. Clara tried to see any humor in the moment, but there was none. Matt turned to the door and opened it widely, turning around to give the remaining people in the room a salute before closing the door behind him. Clara’s lungs felt as if they were failing under the pressure of being alone with him.  
“Doctor, I’m sorry, that was so unprofessional. It will never happen again.” She spoke so quickly, she feared that he didn’t even hear her. He seemed unable to look at her. She felt more than embarrassment as she watched him walk away from her and sit at his desk. She wondered if he was going to sack her in an administrative way or if he would just scream at her and tell her to get out and never come back. “See that it doesn’t.” He replied, more softly than she had ever heard him speak. A crushing feeling in her chest made her breathe in sharply. Why did she feel such devastation? It wasn’t the embarrassment of it, or the fear of losing her job. Embarrassment never lasted long for her. Something gnawed at her, filling her with a shame similar to one who had betrayed another. ‘Had she betrayed him?’ she posed to herself.  
For the rest of the evening, everything was unspoken. Clara watched The Doctor’s every movement, waiting for him to look at her, but he did not. His eyes remained on his work or the books or the floor. Anywhere was better than meeting her eyes. She wanted to ask him why he had come back so early from the meeting, but realized that she couldn’t. The dance remained until the end of the day. It was a longer day because they had to settle things for winter holiday. They worked well after the sky had gone dark. It was the first time she had seen the office at night. Clara finished her work and looked up at the doctor again. He looked tired, more tired than she looked. She stood from her seat and walked a couple of steps closer to his desk, not wanting to get too close. She stood at the edge of where the light from his lamp touched.  
"I'll see you soon then, Doctor." She said, lingering on him, wanting so much for him to say something, anything that would give her confirmation that he didn’t despise her completely. His mouth was firmly shut, but his eyes followed her until he gave in to her need for a reply. "Will you?" He asked, crossing his legs. His long fingers rubbed his stubbled chin that she could hear scratch against them from where she stood. "What's that supposed to mean? It's just Christmas Holiday. I'll be back after the fact." She said with a smile, but slightly narrowed eyes. She couldn't figure out what he was getting at.  
"Are you still angry with me about… something?" She asked, trying to appear courageous in front of him, but coming across as something closer to mousy. “Something?” He asked, still averting his tired eyes. She swallowed hard. “Not something,” She said, scolding herself for word choice. “Are you still angry with me about anything?” She reworded. He grimaced down at the work his hands were doing. “And what would I have to still be angry about?”  
He asked, almost like he wanted her to be specific and own up to it. Her shallow breath quickened, but she calmed it long enough to say, “For… being unprofessional.” She stated tactfully. His eyes blinked with a flutter and he went completely still. "No I’m not. Can you please file these last pages so we can go home?" He demanded, picking up the papers and slapping them down closer to the edge of his desk so he wouldn't have to hand them to her. “Doctor-” She started.  
“They need to be dated and initialed.” He interrupted. She felt a surge of rage throughout her body and her ears became like fire. She couldn't help her reactions when she got to that melting point. "Can you please answer my questions truthfully instead of avoiding them?" She asked just as scornfully as he had, leaning against the edge of his desk so she could talk down to him. The fire in him propelled his body from his seat. He stood, placing his palms flat against the desk and leaning more forward than she had. His height was overpowering and his closeness put the fear of death in her, but she refused to cower and she refused to back away. He was inches from her; close enough for her to see herself reflected in his large, unrelenting eyes. "I don't take orders, Clara." He whispered with shaking fury. She was feeling the urge to cower stronger than ever, but she didn't show it.  
"Maybe you should." She answered, not sure what reaction that would draw from him. His face tightened. "I'm still your employer. Don't forget that as well as your respect!" His volume startled her and she had to watch herself cower in the reflection of his eyes. She shot her gaze down in the shame of her own defeat and pulled away from him, trying, at least, to not run away. "Now file these papers." He stated without moving or gesturing. She stared at him a moment, as if to ask if he was sure he wanted to order her like that. His silent, stony frame suggested that he was.  
She nodded and reached forward to retrieve them, but he was still unmoving. She was keeping her eyes down as she reached for them powerlessly. He still towered over her, even more closely now. She could feel his warmth in the moment of her grabbing the corner of the stack in front of him and, without thinking, let her curiosity get the better of her. She met his eyes. They still burned into her, but as she stared, acting as stone under his grasping gaze, something caused the anger in it to wane. It was as if a tinge of regret wormed its way into his eyes, but only a tinge, and only for a moment.  
When the anger returned, she could see that he realized what she had seen in him, and then suddenly, he was the one cowering. He leaned away from her, wearing a cold expression, before sitting back down, all the while, not glancing away, not relinquishing any control. She broke their stare again and grabbed the papers from the desk unneatly. "There's a good girl." He shot indignantly. Her shoulders felt like they were going to collapse, but she just picked up the stack quickly and placed it in the crook of her arm without daring to look at him with all of the hatred that she felt. It was such a powerful feeling that she considered the possibility that it would hurt him, but she could see her own humiliation as a result and decided she had had enough of that for one night. Her feet carried her quickly to his office's doorway.  
"See you next year." She managed, without turning back to him. She filed the papers and grabbed her things, leaving him to rot in that big office of his. Her lip trembled until she made it to her car. She fumbled frustratedly with her keys until she finally shoved them into the lock and threw herself inside onto the driver's seat. Every tense muscle relaxed as soon as her door closed behind her.  
How could she have ever thought he cared about anything to do with her? How could she have thought that he had kindness in him? He was the man that she met the first day she had arrived. Hot tears sent shivers down her spine at the contrast of the freezing temperature of the car. She realized how long she had been sitting there and then turned the key, making her all too welcome escape. Her foot pressed heavily on the gas, taking her farther and farther away from his office, the university, and anything to do with him. She shed a few angry tears and whispered to herself. "Northamptonshire should be far enough."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will come more quickly than the last because now I know exactly what I'm doing with it! 
> 
> Also, each chapter title is sort of a current title for Clara. In the first chapter, she was only a PA, but now she's become a friend to the Doctor as well. This does not mean that they are JUST friends ;)


	3. The Lover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just edited the ending, so it's slightly different from what I originally posted. :)
> 
> I hope you like it!

“Three days,” He had said. That’s all she needed to endure, was just three nights, though she didn’t know yet if it would be painful. The drive was just an hour and a half out, so at least that wasn’t a bother. They rode in Matt’s car that was small but did the trick nicely. He had told her that it was just his father and his sister that were going to be there, so at least it wasn’t going to be a big gathering.  
Why had she agreed to do this again? She had no idea what other people did for their christmasing. All she knew was that they wouldn’t be reading Christmas tales at midnight, and they certainly wouldn’t be baking her mother’s soufflés. Those were the kinds of things she was not doing this Christmas, and she was almost okay with that. When they arrived, it was as expected: they were as wonderful and as generous as Matt. They hugged her and chatted with her endlessly about her life, which was fine. There had been no reason for nervousness once she was actually with them.  
Wilfred, Matt’s father, loved to hunt. He hung his prized, slayed game on his walls like they did in films, and he had an assortment of rifles right beside the door on a rack. Donna, Matt’s sister, was in school for fashion design. She told Clara stories of New York and Paris and Rome. She didn’t seem particularly cultured in the way she spoke or presented herself, but Clara admired that about her. They seemed to simplify everything. Every question asked and answered was not complicated or required too much explanation, besides a few scattered stories. They were easy to be with and Clara was charmed by their warmth.  
When they had finished their desserts and had exhausted themselves with conversation, Matt led Clara to bed, bidding his father and sister a good night. He led her upstairs to a door across from the bathroom. It was his old bedroom. Toy spaceships hung from the ceiling and children’s drawings of aliens and cowboys and animals covered the walls like wallpaper.  
It looked untouched, like he was still maintaining it as a young boy would, adding to it with new toys and new drawings. They both put on their night clothes, drained from the lengthy day they had. Clara lied down after Matt had. He kissed her cheek and then laid on his side. Clara’s eyes wandered the room pensively.  
“You had quite the imagination.” She mused. Matt turned over and rested his arm over her mid-section and gave her a small squeeze, like what he would have given to a toy bear when he was a child. “I’m afraid I still do.” He replied. Clara half smiled. “What? Do you still dream of being an alien cowboy, or something like that?” She asked quickly, shifting to her back. Matt laughed and lifted his head and placed it in his hand.  
“No, but I still have an imaginary friend.” He stated, looking around them as if he were greeting someone that stood beside the bed. Clara chuckled and covered her mouth, trying not to wake Donna in the next room. Matt grinned and turned to his stomach so he could see her better. “Oh she’s not to be laughed at.” He replied, giving her a scolding lip. She laughed with a “Oh ho, it’s a she?” Matt grinned youthfully and continued.  
“Of course it’s a she! And she is an extraordinary, unearthly being.” His playful tone began to wane and his eyes grew heavy. “Her eyes are made from stars that burn a golden brown… and her skin is made from the kisses of angels.” His long index finger traced circles on the skin of her shoulder. Clara’s smile faded when she realized what he was saying. “She is far too wonderful to truly exist, so she must be imaginary.” He whispered, looking only at his hand touching her arm. She lifted his chin and took his face in both of her hands, kissing him tenderly.  
She embraced him and he shifted so their chests aligned. His heart beat against hers like it was attempting to battle it. She could feel passion pulsing through her as he pressed closer to her. Her eyes fluttered closed, and without warning or prompting, an image of the doctor flitted to her mind. She couldn't fathom his appearing at such a time, but as she became closer to Matt, feeling his sensations and breathing his air, it was as if the doctor were in Matt's place; pressing himself to her, caressing her, kissing her.  
Matt's arms pulled his torso up so he was above her, putting almost too much weight on her chest. She imagined the Doctor's arms pushing her down and his hands holding her. It was the Doctor's leg that swung over her, pinning her legs to the bed with his straddle. It was the Doctor's hands that travelled all over her body and pulled at her pajamas. It was the Doctor's lingering kisses that caused her stomach to flutter and squirm.  
Normally, she would have regained control from Matt, taking over and gaining the higher ground, making him do what she wanted him to, but this wasn't Matt anymore. She was giving in. For once, she wanted to be controlled. She wanted him to possess her completely. He took advantage of her passivity and she let him do everything that he wished, forgetting about being quiet in case Donna could hear.  
Matt fell asleep a little while after they finished and left Clara alone with her thoughts. She watched him snore softly for a while, wondering if what she had pictured was a form of disloyalty. She flushed in embarrassment, though he was asleep and couldn't see the worry in her.  
What if she had called out his name? It's a silly joke people tell, crying out someone else's name in the heat of the moment, but one can never control such things. She considered herself lucky as she looked at him. He would have been devastated. She turned away from him and pulled the covers over her bare shoulder. An independent tear escaped her eye and fell onto his pillow. "I'm such a fool." She mouthed to herself.

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They had spent about eight days with Wilfred and Donna instead of the three they had planned on. It seemed that there were endless things to do. Matt couldn’t bring themselves to part with them just yet and Clara didn’t mind the extension. They all hunted as a family, played games, and had large meal after large meal, though not a one compared to the stupendous Christmas dinner.  
Nothing was painful or dull. Clara felt a comfort this Christmas that she hadn't felt for far too long. She tried not to blame her father for that, but it was difficult not to. At the end of it all, she hugged them both, and thanked them for allowing her to become a member of their family for a week. After long hugs and farewells, Clara and Matt departed, pointed towards London.  
She smiled and pulled her knees to her chest, not caring if it wasn’t a particularly safe way to sit in the car. Her eyes wandered out the window to watch trees whoosh past them one by one. Her thoughts whizzed by just as quickly, though a few repeated; whooshing past again and again, not allowing others to have their turns. It was moments of quiet like these where she couldn’t stop her mind from focusing on the things that weren’t in front of her. The University, the small office, the conversations, the doc-  
“Thank you. For all of it, thank you.” Matt muttered with a grateful shine in his eyes. Clara turned her head to look at him. “I should be thanking you. You have a beautiful family, Matt. I couldn’t have asked for a better Christmas.” She replied, placing her hand over his for a second and straightening her shoulders to take a deep breath. He glanced away from the road to give her a smile. She took it gladly. “I hope you weren’t nervous about meeting them. I was worried when you seemed not yourself, at times.” Her arms squeezed her knees more tightly to her chest as she tried to hide the nerves she now felt. Had she been distracted? Had she not realized how much it showed when she was fighting her haunting thoughts?  
She forced a brief chuckle. “Yeah, I must’ve been nervous. I wasn’t nervous near the end, though!” She tried to say reassuringly. Matt grinned in approval, but something about the creases in his eyes told her that he wasn’t completely convinced by what she said. She ignored her sinking feeling and rested her chin on her knees. It wasn’t long before she dozed off and remained that way for the rest of the trip home.  
She woke to warm lips pressing against her temple. It took a moment for her to realize where she was as she wondered why she would be sleeping anywhere other than a bed. Matt pulled away and unfastened her buckle for her. “It was getting a little late, so I figured we should be somewhere festive before we missed it all.” Matt said quietly, knowing she was having a difficult time adjusting to being awake. His words confused her until she glanced through the window at the pub that was filled with people in party hats blowing kazoos and throwing their hands in the air. “It’s New Year’s Eve. How did I forget it was New Year’s Eve?” She whispered. Her tired eyes found the clock in his car. It read 7:52 p.m.  
“Well, that’s alright! There’s still time to party! I should warn you, I am an excellent dancer.” He spoke in a deep, posh voice, making her smile. She had seen him dance before. He was mistaken. “Let’s go to the party then.” She replied, not caring about the cozy sweater she was wearing with her jeans and boots. She did only have three outfits with her, and at least the one she was wearing was the best of the three.  
They entered the pub that was much quieter than they had expected it to be. At least it was a party. Matt took her hand and led her through the semi-large crowd. “Find us a table?” He asked. She nodded and pushed back through the people that she was positive would get more rowdy before the night’s end. As she made her way to the tables, she spotted only one that didn’t have every seat filled. Occupying the single chair was a woman drinking a martini with an onion. Her outfit and make-up was bright, but her expression was devastatingly somber. Clara sighed, knowing what she had to do.  
“May I sit?” Clara asked, touching the chair beside her. Rose looked up and Clara could have sworn that her frown deepened. “Course. No one else will.” She replied, burying her face in her drink again and glancing at a group of men standing by the bar.  
“How was Christmas?” Clara asked cheerily, attempting to make her feel at ease. Rose smirked mockingly. “My mum brought her boyfriend over and he got me a stuffed animal, like I were a kid, and we had pizza for dinner. Also my boyfriend chucked me. Did you really want to know or were you just makin conversation?”  
She stared unwaveringly into Clara, judging her by the light in her eyes. “I think both.” Clara replied, truthfully. Rose seemed to like her answer and nodded. “What animal was it… the stuffed one?” Clara asked hesitantly. Rose looked at her for a moment. “A wolf.” She chuckled. Clara chuckled in response. It was the first time she had ever heard Rose genuinely laugh.  
The moment left them immediately after Matt placed a kiss on Clara’s cheek and sat beside her. Clara curled her hand around his arm protectively. Matt and Rose greeted each other sweetly, but after that, the conversation began to lack. Clara looked around at all the people, wishing they would start being loud and ruckus so there wasn’t such an obvious silence at their table.  
“So, Rose, um, when was your last day before the holiday started? I stayed a little later, so I wasn’t sure when everyone else was to stop.” She said, not sure if that sounded like she was above anyone for working longer. She bit her lip and wondered why she ever spoke a word to anyone.  
“Well, for the lucky ones, it was the 23rd, but I just got off half an hour ago.” She replied, giving her a look, questioning why she would ask her something so stupid. Clara’s face twisted in confusion. “What? Why would you be working if everyone’s gone on holiday? There’s no reason to be there.” Clara wondered. Rose gave her the look again and shook her head.  
“Not everyone. Old-Man-Smith is still pushing-pencils. He’s either got no friends to celebrate with, or he’s decided to spare them his company as a late Christmas present.” She snorted. Matt chuckled, causing Clara to release her hold on his arm. He shouldn’t have laughed at such a cruel joke, she thought. Why was he there? Why was he alone? Her heart felt like it was being pulled to the ground. She felt sick.  
“Oh, poor man. I might very well be him someday.” Matt murmered with some amusement.  
Clara’s eyes shifted as she stood up and smoothed her hair out of her face worriedly. "You alright, Clara?" Matt asked, lowering his brows with concern. She nodded and then her nod turned to a shake. "No, I'm not feeling well. I think I'm gonna head home." Matt stood up quickly. Sadness overwhelmed his features. He had been waiting to celebrate the New Year with her all week. She saw the disappointment in him, but she just couldn't muster enough guilt to make her want to stay. She had to go.  
"Are you sure? Do you want me to go with you?" He asked, reaching for her hand. She took his with some hesitance and only gave it a quick squeeze before letting go and shaking her head again. "I have to go." She said, trying to hide her sudden desperation. Matt saw it as panic and ran after her. "I guess that answers my question." Rose whispered to herself, taking another sip of her drink. Clara and Matt made it to the stoop of the pub at the same time.  
Clara rubbed her arms and began scanning the snowy street for a cab. "Clara, what's the matter? Everything was fine, more than fine, until we got here. Is it Rose that's got you all... I dunno, frazzled?" He asked, helping her rub her arms as he stared into her seriously. She forced an unwilling smile on her face. "It's not Rose, I promise. I just don't feel well." She replied calmly, knowing that that was what he needed to hear before he would let her go. His head cocked and his eyes were still worried.  
"Thank you for Christmas, Matt. It was beautiful." She said, touching her icy fingers to his cleanly shaven jawline. She looked up at his eyes and felt the guilt that wasn’t enough, again. A pain struck her heart as she saw what could not be mistaken for anything but love staring back at her. Matt loved her, and she knew it now. He was so bright and funny and so terribly sexy, but she realized, just then as his gaze met hers, that she didn't love him back. He beamed down at her and gave her a kiss. She accepted it and told him to enjoy his evening.  
He went back inside the bar reluctantly and smiled with sorrow in his countenance. She worried that he had seen the realization in her. Perhaps he already knew that she didn't love him. Her eyes shut tightly momentarily. But WHY couldn’t she love him? She cringed in anger at herself. She knew the answer to that question well. Because her mind was occupied with someone else.  
The man she was convinced hated the sight of her ran through her every thought, invading her desires and violating her dreams. She couldn't bring herself to say that she loved him really, but she certainly wanted him, and in more than a carnal way. All she knew was that she had a need for him that she couldn't explain, and that perhaps, if he rejected her completely, and she knew for sure that she could never have him, maybe she would be free to love Matt.  
A taxi zoomed up beside her. She leapt into the cab and thought for a moment. She couldn’t go to the university. She just couldn’t, but she couldn’t go back into that pub either. She breathed deeply and ordered for him to take her to her apartment. If the cabbie spoke to her, she didn’t hear him. Her thoughts were so loud that all she could do was sit and wait for them to hush. The feeling she had had in the pub came back to her suddenly. Her heart was being pulled to the floor with tremendous force.  
“No, I changed my mind! Sir, I changed my mind, please take me to the University on 12th and Richelieu!” She cried, knocking on the glass. “Okay! Alright, miss! No need to break the glass.” He shook his head and turned toward 12th avenue, toward the University. He dropped her at the South entrance of the campus, the closest entrance to the English department building. She apologized for her behavior and tipped him very well before he was on his way.  
She looked around at the emptiness. It was far from a party school, but she expected at least some students to be celebrating on the grounds, but there was not a soul to be seen. The silence set her teeth on edge and made her quicken her pace until she beheld the right building. Her feet walked the same path that she and Matt had walked many times side by side, but she thought only of the times where she had done the same with the Doctor.  
Finally, the door was within reach. She approached its handle and wondered if it was going to be locked. Even if he had been there earlier, he probably was home by then. It had been almost an hour since Rose had left, and there would be no reason for him to be there so late. Then again, there was no reason for him to be there at all. She stopped and stared at the handle. 'It would be a mistake to continue' she thought, trying to find the strength to turn around and go back to the street to find another cab. She wished she had been smart enough to go home and get her car, but there was no going back now. Her hand grabbed the handle of the unlocked door and swung it open.  
She entered the hushed building with great hesitance, looking around in the darkened hall for a light switch. When she couldn't find one, she just proceeded, listening for anyone else. Not a soul stirred through the hallway and past Rose's desk all the way to the fifth office on the left. She thought she saw a dim light under the door, but there WAS a big window in there. She couldn't be sure it wasn't the moonlight leaking through.  
Again, her hand took the initiative and lifted to knock. A faint, angry sigh behind the door told her that she wasn't alone anymore. "Come in." He called somewhat softly, though there was no one around to disrupt, so he could have yelled the way he usually did. That was probably why he didn't. Why bother if you have no audience to fear you?  
Clara entered so hesitantly that she was partially hidden by the door, but she soon entered completely and closed the door behind her. She gazed at him with her widest eyes. He was sitting in his chair, reading one of his books, with his thick glasses perched on his nose. The room was cold, cold like the rest of the building, but it was more of a contrast in his office because he always kept it so warm. She gave a small shiver and figured he didn't want to waste heating for the whole building on just one person. His lecture jacket was wrapped around his shoulders like a blanket, but she knew that a thin frame like his needed more warmth than that.  
As she stared at him, she felt something deep within herself that made her heart leap. The only explanation for the empty cavern that seemed to fill when she entered the room was that while she was on holiday, she had missed him more than she realized. She hadn't been away for very long, but the pull she had was undeniable in saying that she was more than glad to see him.  
"Rose, I thought I-" his comment stopped as he met eyes with her. A look of panic filled his face and he shot to his feet. Clara attempted a smile, but it couldn't hold. "Sorry. Not Rose." She muttered, still staring. He stared back, seemingly unable to comprehend her being there. "I gathered." He said finally, not allowing his gaze to leave hers. "What are you doing here?" He asked, it seemed, in outrage. She approached, afraid to get too close to his sudden change in attitude.  
"I was about to ask you the same question." She snapped, trying to gain a little more confidence in herself. He usually responded well to her confidence. "I was getting last minute work done, not that I have to explain myself to you." His eyes grew dark. He was angry, and she was trying to figure out why. And then she remembered how they had parted. Could he still be mad about that? It was a little more than a week ago, though the Doctor seemed like one who could certainly hold a grudge.  
“It looked like you were just reading. Is that part of your work?” She asked, realizing right after that it could have been one of the books in the curriculum, but she knew that it most likely wasn’t. He put the book down on the desk lightly and looked at it scornfully like it had betrayed him. “Am I not allowed breaks?” He chided. She tilted her head as if to say, ‘fair enough.’ “Now, can you-”  
“Yeah, but why here? Why not finish up at home?” She interrupted, seeing no change in his frustrated face. She saw his shoulders rise in a silent sigh. “I concentrate better when I’m in my office.” He replied. He wasn’t very good at making up excuses.  
“Do you live alone?” She asked. His eyes widened and she assumed that the question seemed very inappropriate to him, but he answered it nonetheless.  
“Yes,” He breathed, unable to blink.  
“Then why is it easier to concentrate here?” She asked, just as calmly as he had been answering.  
“I don’t know.” He replied quickly.  
“Did you spend Christmas here as well?” She asked softly, knowing he would answer this question more carefully than the others. He tightened his jaw and looked down at his desk. “I don’t have time for this. I’ve got work to do.” He spat, still holding to his charade. His hand went to his hair and he tangled his fingers in it frustratedly. Clara watched him and saw that his bitterness increased when he was left alone. Her eyes drank in his angry features as she wished she could embrace him again like she had a few weeks back. His warmth was still fresh in her mind.  
"Well,” She started cheerily, walking over and sitting down at her desk. He scowled at her, as he had expected her to take her leave. “As long as there's still work for you to do here, I guess there's still work for me to do here." She threatened, folding her arms from the chilled air. He gaped in disbelief and his eyes shifted in contemplation. She guessed that he had planned to stay there all night, but she wasn’t about to leave him to that. "You can't be serious." He tried, furrowing his brows warningly. She grinned and sat up straight. “As a heart attack.”  
He stood and glared with fury at her, but she wasn’t afraid. Even if he wanted her to, she would not leave him alone. “Fine.” He almost whispered in his anger. She beamed in return and pulled out the papers she had graded before the break so she could file them. The Doctor pulled something out of one of his dresser drawers and began to scratch at the paper furiously with a pen. She had no idea how he could write so quickly, but she envied his gift. They sat in silence, both working with true diligence and speed. Clara was sure they had finished the rest of the semester’s lesson plans and had graded every paper they had received, but she still continued to work on anything she could think of.  
After a long while, Clara became distracted. She hadn’t realized just how hungry she was. The last time she had eaten, she was at Wilfred’s house. That felt like years ago. Her eyes flew to the Doctor and her heart skipped a beat when she found his eyes were already on her, but he lowered them immediately. She gave a small smile and walked over to his desk. He ignored her approach, but looked up at her when she arrived, front and center.  
She felt grateful that he didn’t seem angry anymore. It fed her confidence. “And how may I help you, miss Oswald?” He asked flatly with one raised brow. She liked it when he called her Miss Oswald. “Just wonderin, do you keep any crisps or candy or something in your desk?” She asked as casually as she could. She reeked of desperation to be fed and didn’t care whether or not he thought her strange for asking her employer for snacks from his desk.  
“Afraid not.” He replied indifferently. Her lip pouted unintentionally and she nodded before returning to her desk. As soon as she sat, the Doctor stood and took long strides out the office’s door. It was the most he had moved in hours. Clara watched the door in surprise and wondered if he had left the building and drove off somewhere. She wouldn’t put it past him that he would make such an escape. It was about seven minutes before he strode back in the room, causing her eyes to shoot down and pretend like she hadn’t been watching the door the entire time.  
Curiosity was burning her up, but she knew she couldn’t ask where he was, especially if he had just gone to the bathroom. To her relief, he forfeited the mystery. “Do you like pizza?” He asked, returning to his desk. She frowned, hoping he hadn’t ordered one. “No… not really.” She replied. He sat down, “Good,” he said, surprising her with a large grin, “Because I got Chinese.” He replied smugly.  
Her cheeks flushed instantly from the wide smile that stretched to each ear. He could never say anything expected or boring. She so wanted to know the things about him that he always kept hidden, but in moments like this, she liked being kept on her toes. “How did you know I didn’t like pizza?” She asked in amusement. He shrugged and leaned back against his chair. “You’ve complained about it before. I try to block out complaining, but sometimes things still get through.”  
Clara laughed and shook her head. “Liar. I bet you remember it all and you’re savin it up to tease me with later.” He laughed self-consciously and looked at his shoes. “I don’t think you’re allowed to call your boss a liar. I’m sure that’s written in a rule book somewhere.” His eyes glanced up to meet hers. She could tell that he was glad to see her smile, but hers began to fade with a passing thought.  
“Can I ask you something?” She felt nervous whenever they got back to being serious with each other, like they wouldn’t be able to get back to being comfortable again. He smiled reassuringly. “You don’t need to ask if you can ask a question. I’m a teacher, I love questions!” He announced. She laughed and felt more at ease. “Well, I wanted to ask you,” she looked at him nervously. He cocked his head, probably wondering just how serious the question was going to be.  
”You can tell me if I’m out of line or something, but I wanted to ask, why did you… isolate yourself in this office? Why at Christmas and New Year’s?” She asked, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe how sad the words that were coming out of her mouth were. She wasn’t sure how he was going to answer. He was full of surprises. He stilled and bit the inside of his cheek.  
“Because it’s easier, I suppose you could say.” Her eyebrows lowered as she tried to understand. He leaned back in his chair again and pulled one knee up so his foot rested on his seat. Sometimes he acted so like a young man. She refocused on his words. “I’ve no family here anymore, and I’m not good at the whole social thing like my wife had been. I had friends in school, and I have a few friends back home, but none here.”  
He seemed to smile at a memory that was paying him a brief visit but continued after a second. “So, if I say that I’m busy and I have to work in my office for a couple days, then I forget what time of year it is. Being alone works out just fine.” He said with finality. Clara frowned, dissatisfied. She had expected a different reason; not one she could relate to so well.  
“No one should be alone. I wish you didn’t think that you have to be.” She spoke genuinely. He bowed his head bashfully. “I would that it were that simple.” He gave her a small, sad smile. It told a story that she didn’t know and wouldn’t ask about.  
The Doctor sighed and looked at his watch, raising his eyebrows. “We’re a minute late.” He turned his watch to her to show the hands that read 12:01 am. She grinned and thought about how happy she was that she wasn’t at that bar. “What should we do?” She asked, guessing that he didn’t have any poppers or hats. He thought for a moment and then lifted his finger at an idea.  
He leaned down and unlocked a bottom drawer in his desk, pulling out two square glasses and a bottle of what appeared to be cranberry juice. She laughed and walked over to his desk. He stood and poured the juice into the glasses. “It’s not champagne, but it’s something.” He mused, handing her a glass. He lifted his. “To a new year that will be full of hard work, betterment, and joy.” Her eyes glimmered up at him and she clanked her glass against his before they drank.  
“Happy New Year, Doctor.” She said, holding her cold glass with both hands.  
He smiled. “Happy New Year, Clara.” She looked at him until he looked at her. Both of them were unflinching. She wanted to give him a kiss so badly. It would be justified. It’s a customary thing, she thought. She wanted to wrap herself in him and nestle herself against his chest. That was not so customary. Her eyes began to burn from their staring contest, but the doctor looked away first, taking away her temptation.  
They sat and drank more juice and talked like they had talked all of those other times. Clara was grateful they had stopped working all together. The sound of knocking on the door caused them both to stand. They went to the front of the building together to get the food and took it back to his office. They sat their chairs across from each other, taking very brief bites, not wanting anything to hinder the conversation. The Doctor was telling her a story about his college days, when he had been friends with her old teacher, Professor Williams.  
"And he left you there, holding them all? Why didn't you just ask someone for help?" She asked, her cheeks growing tired from her constant smile. "Well I thought I had it under control, but I was sorely mistaken!" He replied loudly in his harsh Scottish parlance. She laughed, matching his volume. His shoulders shook as he laughed too, causing his coat to fall off of them.  
He realized and then reached for it, but Clara had already lifted from her seat and had a hold of it. The tip of his nose just grazed the side of her head as she bent to pick it up. They both stilled for a moment. Clara could feel the fabric of his jacket slip from her limp grip. So suddenly, the humor in the moment was halted. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart began to pound in her chest. Her body screamed for her to back away, to not test the waters, but she ignored her nervous warnings.  
Clara's head turned, making her realize just how close they were. She could see that his heavy lids were far heavier than usual, and she could see the rise and fall of his chest pick up in speed. It made her want to cling to him and give herself to him completely, but her nerves would barely allow her to move. "I'll finally know," she thought to herself, "I'll know if he wants me as much as I want him. And if he doesn't, then that's my solution." She was still unsure, like she was at midnight, but her want was unbearable now.  
The side of her nose rested against his as she slowly lifted from her kneeling position, being careful to not pull away from him. His breath was quick and hot on her ice cold skin. It made her smile devilishly as she rested her hands on either of the arm rests of his chair, trapping him. "Clara," he said in warning. He was uncomfortable and seemingly open at the same time. She figured he would attempt to stop her at first, at least to say that they shouldn’t be doing what she wanted them to do.  
But she couldn't obey his warning without ripping herself apart, so she remained. His stillness gave her no idea about what was going on his head. Frustration powered through her muscles and she shifted, making her lips brush so softly against his. A small gasp escaped his lungs and every muscle in his thin body tightened all at once. She couldn't contain the pleasure his reaction had given her. She grinned and slid her hands from the arm rests to where his arms rested, brushing against him again and feeling the danger of her actions.  
"Clara, stop." he only had a whisper. Though it was a fierce warning, his body told her something else entirely with the way his skin warmed under her touch. She couldn’t tell if her stopping was what he really wanted, but there was a way she could find out. Her hands had travelled up his arms until they reached his shoulders. She could feel the tension in them as she slid down to feel his heart pound in his chest.  
Without another breath, she finally took the risk. Her nose pressed into his cheek softly as their faces joined with open mouths and warm cheeks. Her eyes fluttered closed at the luxurious feeling she had only been able to imagine when she had been with Matt. No amount of fantasy could have lived up to the real thing. He was everything that she had hoped and everything she had thought about in just one kiss.  
Her fingers tightened around the fabric of his sweater. The feeling of his hand encircling hers sent her heart racing even faster, until he pulled her hand away from him and separated their lips. She opened her eyes. He was looking down at her hand when he released it from his gentle grasp. "Go home, Clara. You've had a long night." He whispered. Clara shuddered at the sudden lack of warmth. She could feel herself turn pale with embarrassment and loss. How could she have been wrong? Had she really mistaken plain kindness as something more? "Doctor, I'm-"  
"I will head home as well. I’m very tired." He interrupted distractedly. His eyes never met hers as she stood up straight and removed herself from his space. He stood and gathered his bag, and books, and his jacket from the floor. "You'll turn the light out when you go?" He asked, eyes fixed ahead while hers never left him for a second; her wide eyes that were full of regret and remorse for the bond or, possibly, the friendship that they had had; the relationship that she had just destroyed.  
"Yes," she replied in barely a whisper. He nodded and opened the door to leave her. She was thinking desperately of what to say to make him forgive her, but she could hardly breathe, let alone speak. He paused and the door and allowed himself to glance into her eyes for just a flash. "Happy New Year, Clara." He murmured with finality and left her alone in the cold office that was growing colder by the second.

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She managed to keep it all bottled up while she rode in the taxi, but when she entered her apartment, she collapsed, crumpling to her knees and allowing the wall to hold her up. She didn’t know how long she sat there until she had the strength to get to the couch in her living room where she sat in complete silence. She held her breath for as long as she could before exhaling and repeated, relaxing her breathing. It helped her to stop herself from releasing the sobs she could feel rebuilding in her chest. She thought if the Doctor spurned her, she would be free; free to love Matt with all her heart, with no further distractions, but she didn’t expect that her heart would linger. Admiration had turned to pining.  
Even though it was pointless, and childish, and self-destructive, she could say it now, with no hesitation: she loved The Doctor. She couldn’t imagine herself loving anyone else ever again. She felt a bit teenaged saying that, but she felt it in the most painful way.  
The only question she was asking herself now was “What about Matt?” It’d be cruel to lead him on when there was nowhere to go, but what would be her excuse for chucking him? ‘Hey Matt, I loved a guy while we were dating and I didn’t tell you, and when I tried to make a move, he rejected me, but I really want to spare you feelings, so let’s just break up’? She was unbelievable. She hated herself.  
"Your New Year's date has just arrived!” Clara stopped breathing all together as Matt came stomping through the hall into her living room with a silver top hat on his head and a pair of pink mittens on his hands. “I haven’t missed it have I? Time flies when you're trying to find poppers and the right bowtie!" He announced boisterously and a little drunkenly. Clara's mouth hung open, not knowing what to say. She hadn’t even heard him come in. He didn't seem to notice her tied tongue as he walked into the kitchen to find a bucket and ice for the champagne he pulled from one of her cupboards.  
“What do you mean ‘miss it’? Midnight was hours ago.” She asked, finally with a cracked voice.  
“Yes, but not in Madagascar!” He bellowed, running over to her. Normally, she would have laughed at his energy, but she couldn’t even muster a smile for him. He grinned and then kissed her, oblivious to her tear-stained cheeks. “Happy New Year in Madagascar.” He whispered in delight before stomping back to the kitchen. He wasn’t as drunk as she initially thought.  
She wished she could have done something about it in the morning, or maybe she could have avoided him for a while, but him showing up now, she figured the universe was telling her that there was a bullet to be bitten. “Matt,” She asked, standing up straight. “Did you eat? I’m starving.” He didn’t seem to hear her. “Matt!” She yelled, not thinking about the hour or her neighbors that were sleeping. Matt ceased all movement in the kitchen. “What’s wrong?” He asked playfully, putting down the bottle with a corkscrew halfway through the cork.  
Clara swallowed, trying to think of what to say. She decided to be nothing but straight-forward. She shuddered before her mouth opened. “I don’t… want to see you anymore.” She said plainly, feeling a cold feeling flood her face. Matt rolled his eyes and turned around to finish opening the bottle. “You’re going to punish me for not showing up earlier? I did try to slip away, ya know. There was this group of chaps, there at the bar, and they knew all these sailor stories…”  
“Matt, I’m not joking. I think we should stop seein each other.” She said as quickly as she could, as to rip off the band-aid. Her hands were shaking as she watched his expression change. He let out a small laugh before he turned back to the counter. She worried for a moment that he still thought it was a joke, until he turned back around.  
She had never seen him look so angry before. The look of rage in his eyes frightened her. It was like he was possessed by something so far from his character that he was transformed into a different man right before her eyes. He leaned against the counter’s edge and put both of his palms against it as he faced her. “Um,” His voice cracked, “Can I, can I ask why?” He looked down at the floor, shaking his head again and again. She was afraid he would ask that.  
She rubbed her shoulder and looked down at the floor. She had to be honest with him. She owed him that much. “I’m in love with someone else.” She said through fresh tears. She was grateful not to see Matt’s expression when she spoke. It would have been too painful, though she figured she would have deserved it. “Who is it?” Matt asked, somewhat calmly, like the calm before the rage of a storm.  
“Please don’t-”  
“Tell me!” He boomed. She looked up at him in shock, fearing what he might do. He would never hurt her, but she wasn’t sure about him smashing things in the apartment. He was so foreign to her in this state, she had no idea of what to expect.  
“The Doctor,” she replied quietly, sinking her teeth into her salty lower lip. His eyes narrowed. He hadn’t expected her answer.  
“Have you been seein him? Sleeping with him?” She looked up at Matt again. He seemed on the edge of something worse. It was a devastating sight on such a face as his.  
“No, nothing like that. He doesn’t, um, he doesn’t feel the same way about me.” She replied, regretting her wording. He laughed unsympathetically.  
“That’s it then? I was your oblivious stand-in until he came around?” He shouted. Clara couldn’t help but think of the neighbors again. A visit from the police would be just the thing to make the situation even more terrible.  
“No! That’s not what it was and you know it! I wanted to be with you! We were happy, YOU were happy.” She exclaimed back, less loudly than him. Matt’s shoulders fell, like his wave of anger had just broken, but she guessed it would build again. He scoffed at himself and ran his fingers through his hair shakily. “Poor Matt. Always the fool.” He muttered.  
“Please don’t say that.” She begged. She was the fool. She knew that from the beginning and for him to take the blame was unbearable. She did this. It was on her. He stood in silence with his hand covering his eyes. The curve of his back suggested the pain he was in. Clara took a few steps toward him, but stopped when he uncovered his face. His cheeks were wet, and his eyes were pink and irritated from the tears that bothered them. “I knew you didn’t love me,” He whispered, full of shame. “but I thought, maybe, you were getting there.”  
Her eyes filled with shame and she rubbed her arms as if to comfort herself. “I wanted to love you so badly. You were the perfect one; the only one I wanted to love.” Matt shook his head again and then wiped his eyes. She had hurt him, much more than she knew. “I’ve made a proper mess of things, haven’t I?” She breathed.  
Matt laughed, a sound she would never hear again. “A bit, yeah.” Clara shuddered. Her eyes shifted nervously at the thought of him despising her forever. She owed him so much more than what she gave him. “Tell me what to do. I don’t know how to make this better.” She said with a sob that she quickly stifled. Matt looked up at her. Her hand covered her mouth and her eyes blurred too heavily for her to see anymore.  
“Me neither. I should go.” He replied with a few sniffs. He sighed deeply and then removed that hat that he had forgotten he was wearing. He looked at it like he was afraid it had made him look even more of a fool. “Fair enough.” Clara choked, blinking the blurriness away. Matt placed the hat on the counter and turned toward the door.  
“Goodbye.” Clara choked out again. Matt opened the door.  
“Please, will you at least say goodbye? Please?” Clara gasped, trying to get a hold of her emotions. How unfair it was of her to cry in front of him, like she was trying to gain sympathy. She hated herself again and shut her eyes.  
“I don’t like endings.” Matt replied. Clara nodded in understanding. She asked too much. She always asked too much. She opened her eyes when she hadn’t heard the door close yet. Matt was looking back at her. A look of sympathy shocked her completely and warmed her heart with its comfort.  
“He seems hard and cruel to me, but you must have a reason for loving him.” He said softly with some lingering anger in his quiet, careful words. She sniffed and cleared her throat, staring at him.  
“I’m not sure I know the reason.” She replied truthfully. Matt turned away and nodded.  
“Then you’d better find out.” He closed the door, leaving her alone for the second time that night. 

*************************************************************************************

 

She couldn’t bear the thought of going back into that office, seeing Rose’s curious looks, possibly seeing Matt in the hall, but even worse, entering The Doctor’s office, and placing the paper on his desk. It would have killed her, and she felt so near to death already. Her heart pounded whenever she thought of him, whenever she dared to picture him in her mind. She felt sick and a strange drowsiness came over her, like her body couldn’t handle the stress of it, and just wanted her to sleep.  
So for the majority of the next day, that’s what she did. She slept and drank champagne, but she couldn’t eat, and she couldn’t speak. When five o’clock came, she lifted herself from the couch and walked over to where her laptop sat and printed off the letter of resignation she had written after Matt left the night before. Putting a coat over her pajamas and slipping into her casual boots, she walked over to the campus library and faxed the letter directly to his office.  
A few students recognized her as their teacher’s assistant dressed in her jim-jams, but none said a word. They could see in her expression that she was not to be trifled with. Relief flooded her when she reentered her apartment and made her way back to the couch. It was over and done with. She would not see him anymore, and more importantly, he would not see her. Her eyes shut peacefully and sleep conquered once again.

*************************************************************************************

The sound of pounding woke her abruptly from her slumber. Her weak limbs pushed up her body into a sitting position, attempting to wake her faster. She realized a few seconds later that it was someone at the door and she shot up and ran over as fast as her feet could carry her. She feared that it was the police, come to question her about last night. When she swung open the door, her fear heightened and she took a step back unconsciously.  
“What is this?” The Doctor scolded, holding up a sheet of paper. She sighed. “Did I not label it as my letter of resignation?” She affronted with a shrug. The Doctor scoffed and pushed past her to enter the apartment. “Come on in,” She remarked in annoyance, closing the door behind him. He stormed through the hall like he had been there before and then slapped the paper on her kitchen counter before facing her. She folded her arms defensively. He looked tired, she thought, but then she figured that she probably didn’t look very kempt herself.  
“This job is exactly where you belong! Why are you throwing this opportunity away?” He shouted, throwing his hands up passionately. She swallowed, trying to replace her sadness with frustration. “You know why.” She replied softly. He calmed and his eyes shifted uncomfortably. “Ah,” He said awkwardly, shifting his feet. “Well, there’s no reason why we can’t forget that.” He said dismissively. Clara looked at him thoughtfully and considered his words.  
“I don’t want to forget it.” She said decidedly. If they were going to forget it, she would have to go back to the way things were, only he would be more distant. Even the thought of it was strangling. He gave her a defeated look as his shoulders fell. “Why not? He nearly whined the phrase. She didn’t want to have to explain it to him, but she tried her best.  
“Because I can’t go on sitting beside you when… there are still…” She failed. Thankfully he nodded in understanding, putting a hand up so she wouldn’t go on. She felt more than embarrassed at his motion. “Alright, I know. I’m sorry.” He replied. Clara’s mouth twitched into a frown.  
“Don’t be sorry. I can’t imagine a worse thing for you to say.” She didn’t mean to be harsh, but the thought of her embarrassing herself, and then him pitying her, made her sick to her stomach. She couldn’t allow it to happen, not after everything. His expression only became more sympathetic, making her want to hide from him; run to her bedroom and shut the door, or better yet, shove him out the front door so he would never have to see her again.  
“Please Clara, I have to say it. I am sorry, especially for leaving you there in my office last night. I shouldn’t have fled like that. I just didn’t know what else to do.” He said directly. His genuine apology softened her. Her frustration was gone again and she shrugged.  
“I understand.” She whispered with her head bowed.  
“I hated to think of you pitying me.” He sighed. Clara lifted her head in confusion. It was like he had just repeated her own internal narrative. Before she could ask what he meant, he went on, “I hated to think that you, a person with endless compassion, would show me affection, just because I so obviously adore you.” He murmured, covering his mouth with his large hand in embarrassment. Clara’s eyes widened. Her whole body began to tremor as she was sure she had misheard him.  
“Adore me? I don’t understand.” She replied shakily, trying to read his expression that seemed just as confused as hers. “What do you mean? You just said you couldn’t sit next to me because of my feelings for you.” He said, removing his hand from his jaw.  
“I meant I have to quit because I love you!” She shouted, instantly clapping her hand over her mouth. She still couldn’t understand. The Doctor’s eyes were piercing. He stood like a statue, unmoving and unbreathing.  
“No you don’t.” He finally spoke in bewilderment, “You love Matthew.” She gaped at him and wiped her eyes. She was trying so hard to figure out if this was a dream or not. She had done a lot of sleeping. “No, I don’t,” She sniffled and pushed poor Matthew from her mind. “I tried, but I never loved Matt. My mind was always occupied with someone else.” She said slowly, trying to get the words out.  
The Doctor’s expression was startling. He was filled with an emotion she had never seen from him before. He stepped forward and his hands cupped her small, round face. She tremored again as he stared down at her in disbelief.  
“You love me?” He breathed, his eyes shifting again. She laughed, unable to contain the burst of joy that galloped through her at his words. She gripped his arm with one hand and the other rested on his cheek. “I love you.” She confirmed. His eyes filled with joy as he stared down at her. "Well, what do we do now?" He asked, lowering his hands to her shoulders and then slowly to her back. She would have shrugged but she didn't want him to move his hands. She leaned closer to him and moved her hands to his chest. She thought of when she did that the night before, how she could feel his heart pound then too. "Have you eaten anything?" He asked next, obviously trying to avoid her affections. She shook her head and slid her hand down to his abdomen. Now that she knew how he felt, she wasn't going to let him stop her. His eyelids were heavy again, making warmth creep up her neck. One of his hands began to comb through her hair. She could feel his fingers brush against the back of her neck, making her inhale sharply. Without another word, he pressed his mouth to hers and parted her lips with his own. Her hands closed on the fabric of his shirt and pulled him right against her so their bodies could move together. She clung to him, like she had wished to for so long. He had wanted her too, but it was still so like a dream that she had to hold on tightly, just in case it actually was. She tugged at his jacket and yanked it from his shoulders so it fell to the floor. They were both more open now, and the doctor returned her passion with his own. He groaned into her mouth which encouraged her further.  
“You’re moving fast…” He whispered, out of breath already. She nodded giddily and seized his lips again. She wanted him to move faster. She wanted him to take control, but there was a hesitance to him. Something was holding him back. She separated from him for a moment and gave him a teasing look. She wasn’t sure, but his expression was somewhat fearful. She pulled her sweater from her torso slowly, leaving her in her blue and white spotted bra.  
She joined with him again and pressed against him. He was sturdy like a tree. She could feel his tension, his nervousness. It was reassuring in a way. “Don’t be afraid.” She cooed into his ear. His arms at least loosened at her touch. “I… I don’t know how to be with you, Clara. I’m not young. I don’t know-” He trailed off, unable to put his fears into words. She leaned up on her tip toes and kissed him softly.  
“All I want is you. I don’t expect anything else.” She said earnestly. He sighed deeply and the lines beside his eyes creased with his beautiful smile. He leaned down and kissed her with more fire and passion. His fingernails dug into her bare skin as he finally took control. When he pulled away to breathe for a moment, he saw that her eyes appeared to be full. "Will you stay the night with me?" She asked, her heavy breath hitting against his open shirt. His eyes were unreadable when he simply nodded. She pulled away from him and took his hand so she could lead him to her bedroom. She knew now that she could never compare the control and dominance that The Doctor wielded to Matt's . The Doctor had a power over her that consumed her completely. She loved to belong to him, but he was also hers; hers to hold and touch for as long as she wished.  
*************************************************************************************  
She entered the hallway, trying to hide the grin that was already pulling at the corners of her mouth. She didn’t want Rose to wonder, especially after a close call that had happened the day before in his office. They had finished their work early and had some other business to attend to when she almost walked in. She flushed slightly when she thought of it.  
Clara turned past Rose’s desk and made her way to the fifth office on the left. She opened the door with no hesitance and walked in with an indifferent look on her face. She didn’t want to let on just how excited she was to see him; at least not yet. “Morning,” She greeted, sitting casually at her desk. He glanced up. She was glad to see that he was not as able to hide his excitement from her. He stood and stuffed his hands into his pockets before walking over to her desk. “Morning,” He greeted back.  
She stood, leaning over her desk to give him a brief kiss. He accepted it and leaned forward for more, but she pulled back teasingly. He scoffed and bit his lip. “You should behave,” He said, teasing her back. She laughed, pulling on the edge of his jacket sleeve with her fingertips. “And why would I do that?” She asked, inching closer. His eyes fell on her parted lips as she closed in on him. “Because, if you’re good, you’ll get your present.”  
Her back straightened and her eyebrows lifted in anticipation. He was being playful, and she was glad of it. “I’ll be good,” She replied coyly. He chuckled and turned to his desk to retrieve something wrapped in brown paper. Oh, she thought in surprise. It’s an actual present. “When can I open it?” She asked excitedly. “Now.” He said, with just as much excitement. She grinned and took the package gently into her hands. It felt heavier than she had expected.  
She pulled the paper off and set it on her desk. The torn paper revealed a book whose cover was worn and whose pages were an aged yellow and smelled like dust and wood. Her eyes read the spine, though she didn't have to. She knew what book this was. Her face became serious as she looked up at him. "I can't accept this." She said, putting her hand over the cover.  
"Why not?" He asked frustratedly with a cocked head.  
"It's your favorite book." She whispered, overwhelmed by his sweet expression. "I lied. I hate this book." He said with humor in his eyes. She laughed. "But what about its value?" She asked with severity, trying to calculate how much it must have cost him.  
"It only has value where it is appreciated, and I can't imagine it being appreciated more anywhere else than it will be here." He replied. She stroked the edges before lifting the cover to look inside at the signature. Right above it was the title, ‘The Invisible Man’.  
"You'll just have to let me come over and read it sometimes." He posed with questioning brows. He seemed unsure, even then, about her acceptance of him. She grinned. "I think we'll be able to arrange something." His wide smile made her knees weak. She tucked her arms underneath his and squeezed his thin torso to her own. He wrapped his arms around her in return, making her stomach flutter. She craned her neck so she could plant a kiss on his lips and then stared at him.  
"What?" He asked with joy in his eyes. She could see the love in them; the love that seemed to dissolve her reality. Her smile increased and she rubbed her nose against his. "You're impossible." She said, gripping him more tightly. He sighed. "Well possibility is boring. There should be more of us impossibles." She laughed. "Are you suggesting that I'm impossible too?" She asked.  
The Doctor lifted his hand and rested it on the side of her face. Her eyes fluttered closed as his thumb stroked her cheek lightly. "Oh yes. You're the most impossible of all of us." He pressed his lips to hers again, so gently. "My impossible girl."

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I am super sorry this took me such a long time, but you can see how long the finished product is! I hope it was alright :)
> 
> -The Madagascar thing is a reference to one of my favorite movies: Bachelor Mother (1939)
> 
> -Also, I don’t care that there would be no Chinese takeout place that would deliver so late! It’s a fanfic, not a historic narrative.


End file.
